


Put Your Back Into It

by CathrineMcCord



Series: Picture Story [2]
Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Picture Story, mission00q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathrineMcCord/pseuds/CathrineMcCord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Picture Tells A Story - http://eptastory.tumblr.com/</p><p>-</p><p>A collection of picture inspired drabbles ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Island of Marrakesch

Written for the MISSON00Q - Promt -> [find the picture here](http://eptastory.tumblr.com/tagged/mission00q)

_

 

 

Q always thought of himself as sort of a self-sustaining island. Intriguing to watch as you pass by, but too mysterious to just set foot on it. Sometimes it is ok for people to visit, maybe even stay a little while, as long as they'll eventually leave. On some occasions they are allowed to explore the beach, but they are never to set foot into the jungle shielding the very core. He accepts the people around him, even lures them closer sometimes, but he doesn't actually need them to sustain himself.

Then comes the day James Bond drowns under his watch.

- 

It isn't even a very hazardous mission, it is barley average and it should have worked out fine, considering how often the two of them worked together already.

But it doesn't work out fine and suddenly Q hears the room fill with Bonds harsh gasping breaths as he fights to stay above the water that threatens to swallow him whole. Q's fingers fly over the keys, pull up satellite footage along with the temperature and the speed of the stream Bond's gotten himself into, but he knows none of this will help, because his brain already calculated all possible outcomes, and _none of this will help!_

He more feels his breath start to mirror Bond's as a wave of utter helplessness washes over him, a sort of helplessness he hasn't felt since he was a kid and he nearly misses the fact that James is calling out his name.

"Q, Q, I-"

Silence.

"007!"

There isn't even a tell tale gurgling sound. Just sudden silence.

"007, report!"

Q can't believe how calm his voice sounds, even as he feels like his lungs are going to burst. He lets his hands fly again, sending a response team and contacting the agent closest to Bonds last location. 

"007!"

It's M this time, but even then nothing. The whole Q-branch seems to be holding their breaths. Q feels like it's not only his breath that is on hold, but his whole existence.

There is this thing in his chest and it pushes and it pulls, compromising him and taking him out of himself and it leaves him helpless and small and hurt.

"Q? Is this Q-branch?"

It's not Bonds voice. His screen supplies the name of the agent he contacted.

"Report that 007 is with me. He is unconscious but alive."

As relieve washes over him, Q suddenly knows.

_Oh._

This is what it feels like when you are in love.

-

"I thought you hated flying?"

Bond's tone is conversational as he leans against the frame to the shabby kitchen. The wood creaks and it's no surprise considering how rundown the house is. They are in Marrakesh. James doesn't understand why.

"I do."

Q has his back to Bond and the room fills with the smell of strong black tea as he pours the water over the leaves. Bond still muses over the fact that the younger hadn't even flinched when he walked through the doorway. Recognizing his pace or waiting for him. Maybe both.

"Then why not hide at your flat?"

"Sometimes one needs a bit of time alone, and that is a difficult matter if one is to be found easily."

Bond quietly accepts his tea, giving Q a once over, while said one refuses to look him in the eye. James can see the exhaustion lingering around his thin frame, it's in the set of his shoulders and in the rumpled grey t-shirt and the loose pajama bottoms. It bugs him that he doesn't know what's wrong and it bugs him even more that he can't grasp why he cares.  

"M told me to get you home."

He says quietly after taking a sip of tea. It's strong and bitter and he knows that Q normally drinks his tea too sweet to stomach.

"Then go home and tell M that I'll be back in a bit."

It's meant to be a demand to be left alone, but it sounds like a plea.

Bond stays.

-

Q doesn't throw him out by force, but he also still doesn't look him in the eye.

It's been three days and Bond spends them trying to make conversation and walking around outside when the conversation making fails. He ends up getting quite a tan.  

At night he sleeps on an old mattress Q showed him. He's wandered around the house enough to know that it's the only available surface sufficient for sleeping, but Q still refuses to accept his offer of sharing or him sleeping on the floor.

He wants to tell Q that it will be fine, because he doesn't sleep anyway. Not since there is this ache in his chest that keeps him awake, that pushes and pulls and that he can't seem to classify. He wants to tell him, but then it seems like it's something big, something too important to just say out loud and he keeps quiet about it.   

It's on the fourth day at 2 am in the morning that he finds Q on the stairs to the first floor, sleeping the sleep of the completely exhausted. He picks him up gently and carries him to the makeshift bed. Q doesn't even stir as he lies down beside him cautiously. That night James falls asleep without a problem. 

-

Q wakes up disoriented and warm and incredibly comfortable, which is just not right because he hates warmth and this warmth is different.

He tries to blink his eyes open and it's harder than he expected, because everything feels soft and blurred at the edges. He hasn't felt like this in ages, maybe never and that terrifies him a little. What really terrifies him though, is the sight he gets when he finally manages to open his eyes. 

Bond is right beside him, their faces mere inches apart and Q can feel his breath tickle over his own cheek. He has his head propped up on James extended arm and as he tries to flex his fingers he realizes that they are curled around the agents wrist.

There is panic rising in his chest, but the familiar push and pull is gone and that makes him panic even more.

Beside him Bond stirs and then slowly blinks awake. He seems surprised for a moment at their current position, both of them holding their breaths but then he exhales slowly and a smile brakes over his lips.

Q scrambles to his feet and bolts.

-

It's dark again as Bond returns to the house. The tightness in his chest became worse with every minute he wasn't able to find Q and he seriously considers calling M. He has the distinctive feeling that this is getting to big for him.

A relieved sight brushes over his lips as he finds Q on the stairs, not sleeping this time, but staring out of the window.

"Stop!"

The voice of the younger cuts through space between them like a knife. James looks up to find the usually so sharp eyes purposefully on him for the first time in days. They look haunted.

"Stop right there ..."         

James looks down again to find his feet on the stairs. There are only about three left between them.

"Stop and go home, there is no reason for you to be here."

Q's voice is quiet now, just above a whisper. James has the strange feeling that it's time to draw his weapon.

"M sent me to-"

"Go home, I'll come back eventually, even without you."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Because he really wants to know, he _needs_ to know. Not knowing pushes and pulls, it compromises him and takes him out of himself and it leaves him helpless and angry and lost.

Q looks away again and Bond climbs up the three stairs and then falls down on his knees between the Quartermasters legs.     

 "Q ..."

He can't believe how calm his voice sounds, even as he feels like his lungs are going to burst. He places a steady hand on Q's neck.

"Tell me what's wrong ..."

He is so close that he can feel Q's breath hitch before he actually hears it. The younger obviously dreads the answer and James feels his pulse quicken beneath his fingers.

The silence becomes unbearable, making him so nervous he wants to crawl out of his own skin. He is not a patient man.

And then finally, as James presses his fingertips softly into his neck, Q takes a shuddering breath.     

"I'm in love with you."

He says and his voice cracks and ... _Oh_.

Q's eyes are huge when he looks up and a wave of relieve brakes over James.

 _Oh,_ he thinks and he suddenly knows.

This is what it feels like when you are in love. 

-

James always thought of himself as sort of a self-sustaining island. Intriguing to watch as you pass by, but too mysterious to just set foot on it. Sometimes it is ok for people to visit, maybe even stay a little while, as long as they'll eventually leave. On some occasions they are allowed to explore the beach, but they are never to set foot into the jungle shielding the very core. He accepts the people around him, even lures them closer sometimes, but he doesn't actually need them to sustain himself.

Then comes the day he follows Q to Marrakesh.


	2. Numb

Inspired by the breathtaking artwork by marielikestodraw ["Numb"](http://marielikestodraw.tumblr.com/post/35679939065/numb-to-absolutely-no-ones-surprise-here-i)

 

-

 

 

James Bond has gone off the radar two days ago.

Q knows that it's not particularly healthy to stay at headquarters for too many hours, but it still takes 48 of them till Tanner is able to persuade him to go home.

When he turns the lock of his apartment door he immediately knows that there is something wrong, even before he sees that someone turned off his security system. A wave of unexpected relive floods him as he sees the green light blinking softly in the dark of the hallway. There is only one person who's been around him enough to know how to avoid triggering the alarm.

Calmly he shrugs out of his coat and pads into the living room, his thick wool socks nearly silent on the old parquet. Not that he is trying to sneak up on the man slumped on his couch. Not like he could actually do that.

Q places the documents he's been carrying with him on the dining table and then turns into the bathroom without a closer look. The figure on the couch doesn't stir.

After he retrieved the first aid kit and placed it on the table too, he slowly makes his way to the back of the couch. He lets his eyes roam over the body in front of him to evaluate the damage and its bad, but it has been worse, so he leans forward and lets his fingers ghost over the other mans shoulders.

_"Come on, 007."_

His voice is quiet and there are only very few who can distinguish this tone from the one he uses at work. Bond lets out a shaky exhale and Q closes his fingers tighter around the agents shoulders for a second.

_"Let's put you back together, shall we?"_

They make their way over to the dining table where Bond sags down on the chair Q pulled out for him, while the younger preps the first aid kit and roles up his sleeves. He pushes the agents torn shirt out of the way, placing it on the side of the chair.

Treating the cuts and bruises on Bond's chest is quick work, done by nimble practiced fingers, a routine completed in silence. The older keeps his head between his shoulders and well, that's part of the routine too.

When Q is finished prepping the next gauze he takes a small step closer, covering Bonds right leg with his tights and leaning forward to lightly tap the gauze against the angry looking gash covering the others forehead. The heat from the agents tight, that steeps through his trousers is a harsh contrast against the disinfectant on his fingers.

Bond doesn't wince, his face staying impassive and slack as the fabric touches his skin, but there's a hand coming up to rest against the Quartermasters hip. When he is done he sheds the gauze, but his hand lingers on Bonds cheek for a little while longer, feeling the rough skin und his palm. The warmth that bleeds through his hand mingles with the warmth from his tights, right in the center of his chest.

Gently Q brushes his fingers along Bonds jaw line and then cups his chin to guide their faces closer together. The blue eyes that bore into him are silent, but the hand on his hips tightens into the fabric of his cardigan. The younger lets out a soft sight and then leans down until their breaths are mingling.

**_"Welcome Home, James ..."_ **

He whispers and as he sees the familiar spark light up the agents eyes and a second hand buries into his hips, he lets his lips touch Bond's.                        


	3. Say My Name

Written for the MISSON00Q - Promt "Betrayal" -> [find the picture here](http://eptastory.tumblr.com/post/36466919803/for-the-misson00q-prompt-betrayal-warnings-for#notes)

 

**WARNINGS** for violence, angst and slash! 

 

-

 

 

 

“Step away from the computer, Q!”

**White**. It is so white around him. His suit is white.

“Why 007, so you won’t have to add yet another kill to your list? As if that would be a hardship …”

**Brown**. Q’s blazer smudges against the white. Brown on a white west.

“Step away, now.”

**Red**. Red blood pooling by his feet. Red like Q’s lips would be after kissing them.

“You really think I’m intimidated by this?”

**Biting**. Q’s laugh. The feeling in his own gut at the sound.

“But then again, you also thought I was playing for the good team … oh 007, boring after all.”

**Cutting**. The truth. The weight of the gun in his hands.

“Q, _step away_.”

**Sharp**. His pressed and urgent voice. The memory of Q moaning beneath him. 

“That’s not even my real name …”

And then **quick** and **loud** and **painful**. A bullet through his chest. Bond hitting the ground.

“Goodby, 007 …”

**Silent**.

_

 

Bond wakes up screaming. It rips through the silence of the room and stirs the man besides him awake.

“James?”

Q’s voice is muffled from cushions and sleep as he tries to turn on the lights to see whats wrong. He doesn’t get far. James grabs his face between both of his hands and hauls him closer.

“Your name!”

“W-what?”

He can barley catch his breath before Bonds fingers dig deeper into his skin.

“Tell me your _name!_ ”

The agent’s snarl is deep and harsh and Q feels fear rising in his chest, regardless of the unwavering trust he holds for this man. 

“I can’t, James you know I can-“

“ _Tell me!_ ”

Bond’s fingertips will leave bruises he won’t know how to explain to M. Q finds himself pushing against arms he would normally clinch to. They don’t give an inch. The adrenalin pumping through James veins and his own sleepiness are fighting against him.

“James I can’t, plea-“

Rough hands shake him and he thinks he hears his jaw crack.

“Bloody tell m-“

“ _Your hurting me!_ ”

It’s Q who screams this time and the bewildered sound of it loosens Bond’s grip on his face a fraction.

For a moment they just look at each other, the agents eyes so huge Q can see the moon reflecting in them. He looks shocked. Their panting breaths mingle together in the short space between them. Then Q shoves him away and skids off the bed.

His jaw stings and the sudden cool prickles against his skin. He goes straight for the door. There is a soft rustle behind him but the floor doesn’t creak and Bond doesn’t follow him.

Q turn’s the door handle.

“I dreamed that you changed sides.”

He stops in his tracks, his hand frozen mid motion. Oh lord, he has never heard James voice so small.

“They send me to kill you and I, I was pointing the gun at you, but you just … you wouldn’t react and I …”

Bond looks up and Q thinks that he has never seen him look so wrecked either. Bond buries his head into his hands and Q’s hand slips of the door handle.

“I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t even feeling betrayed, bloody hell, I only felt scared, god, I was so afraid I could actually pull the trigger …”

Bond pushes his hands into his hair and pulls as if he could pull out the images, tear away the emotions. Q feels something in his chest crack, like his jaw cracked before, because he knows, he read the file, read all of them, he knows about Vesper, about everything she did, read between the lines how much James loved her, and now he knows what this means, knows what it means that MI6 most lethal agent breaks down in front of him at the thought of having him in the same situation as her. He can’t breath.

” … I was so bloody afraid that I could really hurt you … I’m sorry, Q I-“

“Sherrinford.”

Bond looks up startled. He looks so surprised Q isn’t sure if he was even aware that he was still in the room.

“What?”

He takes a deep breath. It’s out now. Oh _shit_. 

“Sherrinford, that’s … that’s my real name …”

There is silence after that, silence that gives him the chance to think about what M would say, about what this says about him, and about them, that he has just given the last thing to James that he had to give.

He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know what M would say or what it means that Bond gets out of the bed and pins him to the door in a complete rush, crushing their bodies together in what should feel as rough as before, but feels so much more gentle and intimate. 

He doesn’t know, but James presses their lips together, mumbling his name, and nudges against Q’s hips until he wraps them around James waist.

“ _Sherrinford, Sherrinford, Sherrinford~_ ”

Q can’t remember if he ever liked his name as much as he likes it when it falls from James lips, so he draws him closer with his legs and rocks his hips until his name turns into a moan.

In the end, non of them will know what all of this says about them, or what M would say, finding out, but at least they not know together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Visit http://eptastory.tumblr.com/ for more :)


End file.
